Chapter 4 - Clash
A hoarse shout fell from Corrin's lips. Crimson light flared brightly around Yato as he raised it high, the blood-red energy that surrounded it rippling down its length, surging with his rising rage. With a mighty charge, the distance between him and the hooded man vanished in mere instants.
"Thoron!"
Lightning split the air in a blinding white lance, its brilliance driving away the darkness. Its aim was true, spearing the spot Corrin's charge would have brought him, the space exploding with enough force and heat to shake the earth and send chunks of glowing stone raining down. It was a frightful spell, packing far more power in such a focused blast that Corrin would have believed possible. Even the Mjölnir spell he'd seen used by some sorcerers were less refined, with multiple smaller bolts that often failed to directly hit a foe.
But despite it all, Corrin had been ready, having changed directions the instant he saw the lightning gather around the hooded man's hand, evading the attack completely. Coming out of his roll and back into his forward charge without more than a second or two of lost time.
With renewed speed, he leapt forward, landing in another diving roll to avoid a blast of flame that roared over his head. An instant later, he was back on his feet, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. He'd fought mages before, and this foe was clearly no different. With his speed, all he had to do was avoid his attacks as until he caught him. Now, he had him!
Another shout fell from Corrin's lip, the sound one of victory. He brought Yato down as he lunged through the dying embers raining in the aftermath of the spell, the blade entering the space he knew his opponent stood and-
-And whistled harmlessly through empty space.
In that instant the smile vanished, Corrin's eyes shooting wide as he realized what had happened. In the instant he'd launched his second spell, the hooded man had leapt back, carrying him out of reach of Corrin's blade. It had happened during Corrin's roll; he hadn't seen it happen! What's more, the sudden change from dark to light to dark caused by the spell's illumination mixed with the dazzling embers that lingered behind had played tricks on his eyes, so that he'd only been able to see a vague shape he'd judged as being closer than it actually was.
Had he planned this? Had he chosen his second spell for that very reason?
Corrin dropped low, catching himself on one hand. The lack of expected resistance had almost thrown him off balance, forcing him to correct himself before launching a follow up. He tensed, charging forward once more, checking Yato's arc to reverse directions and bring it back around for another swing.
But the hooded man was already in motion, retreating back yet again long before the next strike even fell, putting more distance between them. He leapt back, dazzling light dancing around a single hand he thrust upward over his head, his voice ringing out loud and clear. "Arcthunder!"
Several miniature bolts of lightning leapt out from his open palm, arcing high overhead. Each bolt split into more, their number becoming a dozen as they reversed direction, picking up speed as they rained down. In the span of an instant, Corrin saw they were aimed not at him, but for the space between them. The man must have known that Corrin would have been able to get out of the way in time! Rather than go for a direct hit, he used his spell as a defensive wall! He knew I'd have to dodge, giving up a direct chase, Corrin realized.
Corrin threw himself back, clearing the area as the bolts smashed down. Even clear of the blast's edge he still felt the rush of air and heat flow past him, Corrin skidding to a stop as his bare feet dug into the earth. Each impact threw dirt and loose stone into the air, forcing Corrin to shield his eyes with one arm. The debris mixed with the already thick mist, obscuring the enemy mage from view.
An angry hiss flowed through clenched teeth, Corrin's jaw grinding in frustration. Where the hell was he?! He had to be-
"Elwind!"
Crescent blades of green light sliced through the smokescreen. Corrin had but an instant to react. He leapt aside, narrowly avoiding the first. He rolled to his feet, immediately ducking back to his right as the next missed his head by less than an inch distance. The third and final crescent followed a split second after, far quicker than Corrin could properly avoid. He twisted out of the way, the blade's edge clipping his arm. A sharp pain shot up to his shoulder, and when he looked down he saw his armor and skin alike had been opened like paper cut by a razor blade.
The spell must concentrate air into a single edge, Corrin realized, eyes going wide. The glow must be due to all the magic needed to hold the wind into shape.
Another blast of lightning struck out from the smoke, detonating in the spot Corrin had stood a second before; the prince once again having rolled away just in time.
This wasn't working. His foe had managed to anticipate his moves. He had to try something else, but what? An idea came to Corrin's mind then. It was risky, even foolish. But with Yato and his own abilities, it might just work.
Once again, Corrin charged the mage's position, letting loose another battle cry, making sure his foe knew he was coming. He darted left, avoiding another spell. Come on! Do it! I dare you!
"Thoron!" the hooded man bellowed, unleashing the same massive bolt of lightning he'd used before.
Rather than dodge to either side, Corrin leapt up into the air. With his speed and strength, he cleared the the spell's reach, launching himself forward towards his foe without any loss of speed.
"Elthunder!"
An orb of lightning leapt from the mage's fingertips, aimed at Corrin while he was still in mid air. Still falling, it was impossible for Corrin to change directions and he knew it. Which is why he'd expected it.
A laugh echoed through the air as Corrin swung Yato out before him, intercepting the spell with the flat of the blade. There was a flash of light, the crimson energy around the sword flaring up as it scattered the spell before it could hit. Sparks and miniature bolts shot in all directions, some managing to strike Corrin. The electricity burned where it hit, singeing his clothes in several places, but not causing any serious damage, only a bit of pain. And pain was something he could handle.
Swinging his blade around, he brought it down in an overhead strike as he landed. The hooded man leapt back at the last second, narrowly avoiding being sliced in two. A fountain of dust flew into the air as Yato smashed into the ground with enough force to leave a crater at the spot he struck, obscuring both from view.
But Corrin was on him then, leaping into the dust cloud to follow up with a second cut aimed at his neck. At once, he saw his foe was ready for it too, already moving to duck at the very start of the attack. Corrin's own speed hurt him here, preventing him from reacting in time to change directions, the sword sailing harmlessly overhead. However, rather than reverse directions, Corrin flowed with the strike, using Yato's momentum to carry it around in an arc to come back down in a horizontal slash. The instant the blow began to fall, Corrin could tell his foe would not be able to dodge this time, the hooded man's movements too slow to again change directions and leap out of the way.
This time he had him!
A metallic clang reverberated through the air, a jarring pain shooting up Corrin's arm. He suddenly found himself recoiling back, Yato knocked wide. In the span of an instant, his once triumphant expression had again turned to shock, eyes shooting wide as he fought to regain his balance.
The mage stepped back into a defensive stance, the sword grasped in his hand trailing out wide as it finished the arc that had carried it to intercept Corrin's own blade. In an instant, he realized what must have happened. When he'd ducked under the horizontal slash, the man must have gone for his sheathed sword, drawing it before the follow up strike. He'd used the very motion of drawing his sword to parry the blow. But that would only be possible if he'd known exactly where the attack would have come from, long before it had fallen. Had he anticipated all of his moves since the beginning?!
The wind generated from the force of Corrin's blow caught the man's hood, pulling it back as he finished his motion. As the hood settled around the man's shoulders, Corrin saw a shock of snow white hair, shorter in style than his own, framing a face that seemed both youthful and serious all at once: with hard, angled brows and a sharp jawline. His eyes were closed, the corner of his lips pulled back into the smallest hint of a smile.
Then his eyes snapped open, orbs of golden brown fixing their gaze on Corrin with such intensity that it sent a cold shiver running down his spine. They were the eyes of someone watching his every move, their surface hiding a maze of thoughts. And those eyes now gleamed with confidence, certainly born of a plan that had fallen perfectly into place.
He leapt into action then, swinging his sword back around the instant before Corrin had a chance to regain his footing. He blocked just in time, the impact sending him staggering in retreat yet again. Then the next strike came, the white haired man flowing from one blow to the next in a constant stream of a relentless assault. Yet for all their fury, each strike was aimed with thoughtful care, that of an experienced swordsman.
It was plain, even from where Corrin stood, that the man was nowhere near as strong and fast as himself, failing even to match those of Xander or Ryoma, the greatest fighters he'd ever faced. Yet all he could do now was fall back on the defensive, unable to regain his footing, let alone press a counterattack. Even though he'd seen the sword hanging at the man's hip, he had gone into the battle with the mindset of fighting a spellcaster. He'd assumed if he could close in, his foe would be defenseless. He hadn't been prepared to fight a swordsman. And now he realized that was what his foe had counted on. He had led him into a trap, allowing him to gain the upper hand.
With a howl of rage, Corrin seized Yato with both hands. Instead of parrying, he swung against the blade with all his might, staggering the white haired man back half a step. He launched his own attack, relying on his speed and strength to make up for his poor footing and unsteady stance.
In an instant, the man recovered, his stance shifting before his eyes. He intercepted the blow, his movements suddenly sharp and sturdy, weathering the attack like a rock against a storm. Then his stance flowed into another, launching a series of rapid thrusts and precise cuts that again forced Corrin back into the defensive. Then again his techniques changed, fencing style turning to one of following slashes.
Again and again he went from one combat style from another, forcing Corrin to adjust his own tactics each time. Many of the styles were ones similar to those he'd faced before, and none seemed like those of a master. Yet it was plain the man was proficient in each of the styles he used, switching between them to keep Corrin guessing. To know so many different forms of swordplay… I can't even imagine how much training and practice it would take, even to be able to use them on a mere proficient basis, Corrin realized, retreating back step by step.
Who is he?!
. . . . .
Robin pressed his attack, refusing to let up for even a second, even as his arm began to burn with the strain of his relentless assault. The opening assault had already tired him greatly, having been forced to utilize so many spells in quick succession as he had. In any other circumstances he would have been more cautious, but after seeing the speed at which the red-eyed man had avoided his first spell, it was clear any opening could prove costly. In terms of speed and physical strength he would be hopelessly outmatched. Which was why he had to make sure it never came to a head on battle.
Stepping forward, Robin again changed fighting style, this time one of powerful counters and sweeping blows. With each tactic he took on, he glimpsed flashes of faces before his eyes, of people whose names he could not recall but that instinct told him he knew. These were their fighting styles, ones he had learned through practicing alongside them.
Even here, unable to remember them in full, it felt like they were there along with him. It felt like he wasn't alone.
Yet even with their help, even as he struggled to keep his foe guessing, Robin could not break through his opponent's defenses. Each time he struck, the red-eyed man moved with swiftness no normal human should possess, defending himself at the last possible instant.
It was at that instant something strange seemed to come over his foe. His movements became less frantic, more relaxed. For just a moment he shut his eyes, his expression focused as if looking for something. Then he tensed.
With renewed purpose, his foe threw himself into his defenses, changing directions as he retreated back. Within three steps, Robin realized that this was no random retreat, he was being led back to a specific point. For a fraction of a second, Robin hesitated, at once rapidly considering his options, unsure if he should risk continuing his attack or fall back lest he walk right into a trap.
He indecision lasted less than a second. Against any other foe this would have made little difference. But this enemy was not like any normal foe. He reacted fast, faster than Robin expected, making the decision for him.
Gripping his sword with both hands, the swordsman again attempted to overpower Robin. Only this time, rather than try to press forward, he leapt back, his powerful blow clearing the space between them. Before Robin could re-engage, the red-eyed man spun away, sprinting in the opposite direction.
Dammit! Had it all been a ruse to escape? Had he walked into it?
"Arcthunder!" Bolts of lightning smashed down, Robin aiming to block his foe's advance as he had before. Yet the man had clearly learned from his earlier mistakes, moving in an erratic zig-zag pattern rather than attempting to rush in a straight line. Each bolt struck the ground an instant too late to find its mark, Robin's target darting past.
He gave chase, the indirect path his foe had taken allowing him to keep pace. He launched another spell, wind blades managing to slow the swordsman's retreat further as he was forced to dodge. He closed in now, once again moving to match his foe in close range.
The swordsman skidded to a stop, spinning around to face him once more. He reached out with one arm, his palm down as if grasping something.
For a split second, Robin felt a surge of power unlike anything he felt before. Like the low, beating thrum of a great drum. There was power there, like the magic used by all mages, but different. This was less refined, something far more primal. Something far stronger than any tome.
Alarm shot through every fiber of his body, instinct screaming for him to get out of the way, to cease his attack before it was too late.
The warning came not a moment too soon. At that very moment the ground erupted under Robin's feet, spikes of ragged stone and dirt sprouting in a shockwave that rippled from where the red-eyed man stood straight towards Robin's own position. He leapt aside just in time, avoiding the worst of the wave. The ground buckled under his feet, throwing him to the dirt a yard away. Chunks of stone rained down, striking his back and arms as he tried to shield his head.
A hiss of pain escaped his lips as one stone struck his shoulder, driving him to the ground. Frantically he tried to stand, shaking his head to clear the haze that had fallen over him. Twisting around, he saw a wall of stone spikes now filled the space where the earth had been split open, rising a dozen feet high.
And further back still, Robin spied the swordsman. He'd moved positions, his hand outstretched over a second spot. Again, Robin felt the same power, this time spying a shimmer in the air right under the man's outstretched hand. The ground trembled under him, the earth cracking.
A voice screamed at him to move, it's tone frantic. He wasn't sure if he could move in time.
Then the world exploded in a hail of stone and dust.
. . . . .
Corrin fell to one knee, gasping for air. His outstretched hand hovered in place for another split second, then fell back down to his side.
Using two Dragon Veins in quick succession had taken a lot out of him. Trapped in a castle his whole life, he hadn't had much experience using them until recent months. He still wasn't as good with them as his siblings: with even Elise having an easier job despite being several years his younger.
At least his gamble had paid off. From the looks of it, his foe hadn't been prepared for him to use that power. Either he hadn't known about Dragon Veins in their entirety, or had merely not known Corrin could use them, that much was clear.
With a groan, Corrin shoved himself to his feet, swaying a step as he regained his balance, at last surveying his handiwork.
A second wall of jagged stone stood about three or four yards away from where he now stood. It ran perpendicular to his position, crossing the spot the white-haired man had stood moments before. This wall was half as high as the first, the spears of rock even more jagged. With the force of their eruption, anyone caught within would have been easily crushed and impaled. He was not looking forward to finding whatever was left.
Corrin froze, his eyes narrowing as he realized he couldn't see any sign of his foe's remains amongst the stone barrier. Had he been thrown free? Corrin wondered. But no, even then there should have been some sign left on the rock, some blood. Or even-
"Thoron!"
Between the sound of the cry, Corrin had only a split second to leap aside before a section of the wall detonated in a flash of blinding white. Rocks struck the ground all around his feet, managing to miss him if only by sheer luck. A wave of pulverised stone slammed into him and instant later, spreading outward to envelope the world in a veil of dust. Like when the lightning spell had hit the ground earlier, the cloud of debris mixed with the mist to form a smokescreen, only this time on a far larger scale, smothering the dim light in a sea of gray and pale brown.
Dammit! How had he gotten clear in time?! Corrin wondered.
Tightening his grip on Yato, Corrin sprung forward, following the trajectory of the blast to its source. In three massive bounds, he crossed the distance, glimpsing a flicker of movement in the dust cloud before him. He brought his blade down at the shape, only for it to vanish before him, sword hitting nothing but empty air.
"Elthunder!"
Corrin whirled around, darting to one side just in time to avoid the attack that came from behind. He leapt forward, barreling into the spot the spell had come from, his sword again finding no mark. The next instant, a crunch of a footstep sounded, Corrin twisting to face it just in time to parry an incoming sword slash. The edge of the blade slipped past his defenses, scoring a shallow cut on his shoulder. Hissing in pain, Corrin knocked the blade back and retaliated with a slash of his own. Yato whooshed through the air, again finding no mark, his foe appearing as nothing more than a silhouette as he darted back into the smoke.
Bellowing in rage, Corrin threw himself forward, using the momentum of his lunge to carry him into a roll. Coming out of it on his feet, he launched another strike at the darting shadow that marked his foe's position.
"Arcfire!"
A gout of flame rushed forward to meet him. Corrin skidded to a stop, shielding his eyes with an arm as the inferno rushed out to either side, spreading into a wall of roaring flame. He pushed off the ground, leaping forward the instant the blast subsided. He slashed, hacking through the dying embers. Yet again his foe had seemingly vanished, the spot the spell had originated from empty and still.
A burst of lightning struck Corrin in the back, throwing him to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, whirling around to face the direction the attack had come from, only the next came on his left. The tip of a sword found his leg, drawing another line of red before Corrin had a chance to defend himself.
Again and again his foe struck from all sides, using the smokescreen and spells to conceal his movements. He managed to land several more blows, each every one taking its toll on Corrin. He was lucky so far none had been serious, but still he knew it was only a matter of time before one proved far more lethal. Anger and frustration surged with each blow that fell, driving him deeper and deeper into the haze of red.
Howling in fury, Corrin charged headfirst into the fog. When the next spell came he took it head on, the ball of lightning hitting him square in the chest. Agony burst from the spot, his vision flashing white. Yet he did not fall, his momentum carrying him forward. His eyes fell on his foe, the dust having started to settle enough to see him clearly. Now he-
"Thoron!"
Corrin twisted aside to avoid the spell, moving too late to realize it had not been aimed at him. The lightning lanced the stone wall, sending forth another wave of dust that swallowed them both. In an instant, his foe moved again, a blast of flame engulfing him from behind. Corrin's every nerve screamed in pain as he threw himself out of the inferno, staggering a step before collapsing to one knee.
A footstep crunched to his left. Corrin scrambled around, Yato intercepting the next blow a split second too late, a sword tip piercing his side. He screamed in pain, swiping wildly as he staggered back to his feet.
He took a few steps forward, then fell to both knees. His vision darkened, and for a moment he thought he would pass out. He clutched at his side, his hand coming away red.
He heard movement behind him, drawing closer.
He let his hand reach higher, to something tucked higher.
For a split second time seemed to hang still, the world frozen in place.
With a final burst of strength, Corrin whirled around, forcing his body to obey his commands. He yanked his hand free, drawing forth a red and gold tome carried within. He had never been very good with magic; while capable of pulling off powerful spells, they left him exhausted, to the point he only used them as a last resort.
"Ragnarok!"
. . . . .
A vortex of flame filled Robin's vision, tongues of flame converging in a single point. He covered himself with his arms, forming a wall of wind before him the instant the spell detonated. There was a blinding rush of light and heat, an invisible wall of force slamming into him head on. It blew through his barrier like it was nothing, sending him tumbling through the air. As his body rolled across the ground, he quickly bounced in recovery and skidded to a stop. Dizziness striking him as he knelt there, motes of light flashing before his eyes and his head throbbing in agony. Somewhere in the process he tried to stand, only to fall face first in the dirt, his legs made of gelatin for all the good they did to support his weight.
For several moments he just lay there, cradling his head as his thoughts slowly returned. Somehow, the pain grew with each passing moment, as if his body was only now fully registering the pain, all the while a voiced screamed for him to stand. To move. To do something!
Soon, a footstep sounded nearby.
Robin forced his eyes open. Despite the pain, his body leapt into motion, acting purely on instinct. He threw himself into a roll, a blade burying itself in the earth he'd lain upon an instant before. His hand seized his own sword as he twisted around, coming up onto one knee just in time to catch the next strike with a frantic block. Metal shrieked as the two weapons clashed, the spell-reinforced edge of his sword grinding against the otherworldly metal of his foe's. The enemy swordsman loomed over him, pressing down with all his might. The muscles in Robin's arms burned, shaking as he fought with all his might to keep the blade at bay. Where had all of this strength come from? A moment before, the red-eyed man had seemed to be barely able to stand. How had he recovered so quickly?
Robin's eyes fell on the swordsman's side. He isn't bleeding?! Robin wondered. Indeed, the only blood staining his armor was already beginning to dry. How had the wound closed so quickly? There had to- there! Discarded in the dirt was an empty vial, which he could only guess had contained a healing potion. That was why he had taken so long to attack after the spell! He had used the opportunity to heal.
A sound somewhere between a hiss and a growl fell from the swordsman's lips. His left hand shot forward, seizing hold of Robin's forearm. Nails dug into skin as he twisted his arm back, dragging Robin's sword inch by inch down towards his own neck. Straining, it was all Robin could do but slow his advance, leaning further and further back as he struggled. Yet still, the swordsman pushed his advantage, driving him down until his face hovered mere inches from Robin's own. Face to face, Robin for the first time realized the man's eyes were slitted like a cat's, their appearance almost reptilian.
Robin's arm trembled, the blade moving ever so closer. Sweat dripped from his brow, stinging his eyes. Another inch closer. The edge almost rested on his neck now.
His heart hammered in his chest, loud enough to drown out all sound. Desperation took over, and with it came reserved strength Robin didn't know he still had. With a momentous surge, he shoved back, pushing the blade out by half a foot. He kicked out with one leg, hooking the heel of his boot behind his foe's ankle. He yanked his foot in, throwing the man off balance. The instant the blade fell down, Robin twisted aside, the tip of the sword missing his neck by a hair's breadth.
"Wind!"
A blast of air slammed into the swordsman's chest with enough force to throw him back, tearing Robin free of his grip. He fell back as well, retrieving his own sword as he scrambled to his feet.
However, the red-eyed man recovered just as quickly, leaping back at Robin with his sword bared.
Robin darted back, coming out of reach of the first swing. As he moved, he thrust out a hand, drawing on his remaining pool of magical power. A burst of lightning arced from Robin's fingertips, spitting the air with a crackle of power.
As expected, the swordsman lifted his arms to shield himself, blocking the attack with his blade as he had done before.
But this was what Robin had been counting on. In an instant, Robin closed the distance between them. So wrapped in defending himself from the spell and expecting another retreat rather than an advance, the swordsman barely had time to react as he launched a flurry of blows.
Again and again Robin's blade collided with the crimson wreathed sword of his foe, metal ringing out with each clash. Each hit forced the man back step by step, never giving him a chance to recover.
Twisting his blade, Robin knocked the man's arm wide. "Elwind!" Twin crescents of wind sliced the swordsman across his chest, knocking him further off balance and drawing two more lines of blood.
His blade clashed twice more, even staggered as he was, the red-eyed man's inhuman speed and strength kept him in the fight. If he got the chance to recover, he could easily regain favor.
And that's why he couldn't give him that chance.
Leaping back, Robin aimed his next spell at the ground. "Arcfire!" Flames splashed against the stone, fanning out until they completely engulfed the swordsman.
A cry of rage filled the air, the swordsman bursting forth from the flames to hack at the spot Robin stood.
But he was no longer there. He'd moved, covered by the flames, to attack from the right. The man whirled, too slow, his sword's tip narrowly missing as he ducked out of the way.
"Elthunder!" A sphere of lighting leapt from Robin's palm. The swordsman weaved to the left to avoid the spell. For but an instant he was left open, which was all Robin needed. He leapt forward, bringing his blade down in one final strike.
. . . . .
With cry of his own, Corrin threw his own blade before him, blocking the incoming strike. Still reeling from the mage's assault, he barely managed to block in time, steel ringing out as the blade connected in a shower of sparks. His arms burned, his legs buckling as he struggled to keep the blade back. Now it was his turn to find himself unable to hold his foe back. Even with his superior strength, he was simply too worn out from exhaustion and his injuries to muster enough power to push him back.
One of his feet slipped and he fell to one knee, Yato wavering as it inched lower and lower.
For a moment, Corrin could only stare helplessly. He was just so tired… why not give in? Let it end. He'd given it his all, hadn't he?
Then something flickered inside him. It was as if another will pressed into his, fueling the dying fire in his heart, letting it surge forth once more. No. He couldn't lose. Not here, not again. He remembered how his mother died. How his brothers fell because of his actions. How Azura fell before him. A voice seemed to whisper, encouraging him to fight back, kindling the anger that engulfed his mind once more.
And with that anger, Corrin surrendered to the haze of blood.
The dragonstone tucked inside his armor burned as if aflame. His skin crawled, every nerve tingling as power surged through him.
Then he changed.
With an inhuman roar, Corrin lashed out with one hand, claws sprouting from his fingertips. For an instant, shock played across the white-haired man's face, so focused as he'd been on their blades' struggle that he failed to account for an attack coming from another angle. It seemed as though he hadn't even expected it to be a possibility.
His hand slammed into the center of the man's chestplate, claws screeching as they dug into steel. The force of the impact staggered him a step back, the weight of his blade lifting for a fraction of a second. This gave Corrin the opening he needed. With a heave of renewed strength, he shoved back, moving faster than he ever could in his normal state. On the back swipe of his claws, he slashed at the side of the man's arms, drawing blood as he was forced back.
Now it was his foe's turn to reel off balance. Corrin launched his own string of attacks, effortlessly avoiding the barrage of spells launched his way. He darted left and right, hacking and slashing with sword and claw alike, forcing the white-haired man further back. He deflected a ball of lightning with Yato, scattering it before slashing in a blow that nearly found the man's shoulder.
A roaring cone of flame erupted from the mage's fingertips, engulfing the spot Corrin stood. Only he was no longer there, leaping back before he'd even felt the heat of the flames. He shoved out his arm, bones and muscle twisting as they reshaped into a spear-like limb, catching the white-haired man in the shoulder, hitting with enough force to crack the pauldron. He reeled back, flailing as he fought to keep his balance.
Corrin landed on his feet, only to launch himself airborne once again, this time straight at his opponent. He twisted, spinning as he slashed in a wide, arcing cut. Yato clashed against the blade raised to block, knocking his sword wide. Continuing the motion, Corrin lashed out with a foot, connecting with the man's torso. The force of the kick slammed the man to the ground, a gasping wheeze escaping from the man's lips, impact driving the air from his lungs.
With the kick's momentum shoving him the opposite direction, Corrin flipped back, landing deftly on his feet to face his prone foe. A sound half a laugh, half an animalistic growl echoed from his throat. Then he charged, Yato and claws raised in preparation to tear the man limb from limb.
. . . . .
Frantically, Robin scrambled to his feet, his body screaming in protest. Everything hurt, but he ignored it, forcing himself into motion.
It was not a moment too soon, the red-eyed swordsman leaping towards him with blade and claws bared, a sound more animal than human bellowing forth from his throat. Robin staggering back, just in time to avoid being flattened as he brought talon and blade crashing down on the spot he stood an instant before.
What is he?!
Thinking fast, he thrust out a hand, aiming it at the ground. "Arcwind!" The funnel of air slammed into the earth between them, kicking up another burst of dust and launching Robin back. He was thrown to the ground several yards back, managing to tuck his arms and legs in before he hit, rolling to disperse some of the energy of the fall.
The swordsman was thrown back too, tumbling through the air. However, unlike him, he did not come crashing down. In an instant, leathery wings sprouted from his back, unfurling to catch the air. With three flaps, he slowed his fall and reversed direction, launching himself back at Robin.
Robin's mind whirled, desperately searching for some tactic he could use to counter this new ability. In nearly every ability he'd faced, strategies had immediately appeared before him, instinct telling him exactly how to counter his foe. Tactics drilled and practiced to the point where even with foggy memories he recalled them easily. Yet as with the strange magic displayed, he had nothing.
He'd never faced anything like this power before.
A dozen questions whirled by. How far did this transformation go? Could he sustain it forever? What were its limits? Could he shape his body in ways yet seen? There were too many variables, too many unknowns for him to come up with a viable strategy. He didn't know enough about the power. He didn't know!
Robin threw himself back, ducking under a diving swing of the swordsman's blade. The red-eyed man's momentum carried him past, coming in for a hard landing several feet off-target. He skidded for a distance, using one hand to brace himself as he grinded to a halt. Then he leapt towards him once more, howling in blind rage, eyes burning like embers.
Blindly…That's it! His actions had become far more aggressive since transforming. He must have trouble controlling himself in it! Robin realized. Instead of dodging, Robin spun to face the charging dragon-man hybrid. Closing his eyes, he reached deep inside, feeling for the magical power stored within. There was so little left; after this spell he would have almost nothing left. Only enough now for one last gamble.
A second passed, Robin sucking in a deep breath. Then his eyes snapped open. "Thoron!" He bellowed, standing tall and throwing out his hand. The bolt of lightning struck in a roaring spear of power, barreling towards the swordsman. As close as he was and so focused on his attack, he failed to react in time to dodge, the spell hitting him head on. There was an explosion of searing heat, smoke billowing in all directions and the lighting engulfed.
A scream of rage and agony filled the air, barely able to be heard over the roaring blast.
Then the swordsman barreled out of the smoke. His armor blackened and smoldering, visible burns on his scale-like skin. Yet still he continued his charge, still standing despite taking the full force of Robin's Thoron directly. His blade blazed crimson red as he raised it high overhead, bringing it down in a powerful strike, a fell cry falling from his throat.
Robin went for his own blade, dropping his weight onto his back foot as he held his ground. With a shout of his own, he brought his sword up, funnelling the last remaining reserves of his power into the blade. "Ignis!" he screamed. Light-like fire leapt from the blade, crimson that darkened to a deep purple at its edges surged in an inferno as the two weapons met in a resounding clash.
The next thing Robin knew, there was a blinding flash of light and a sound like thunder. Then he was staggering back, his sword spinning from his grasp, torn free by the force of the impact. It sunk into the dirt, hilt wobbling as it stuck there. The swordsman too reeled back, his own weapon wrenched free to fly in the opposite direction, landing out of reach just as Robin's hand.
For an instant, shock played across the man's almost reptilian face. Then he growled, its sound low and seething with anger. In a single instant, he regained his balance, launching himself at Robin with claws bared.
Scrambling to regain his own footing, Robin threw out his hands, discharging a burst of lightning that his foe easily side-stepped, the spell fizzling in the air behind him. It was no use! He had nothing left!
A clawed hand came down on his shoulder, metal screeching as talons dug into his pauldrons. The force of the blow staggering him forward, straight into the path of the second swipe that caught him in the side. Hot, burning pain seared through his flesh as claws rent through armor and skin alike. A knee came up, crashing into the center plate with enough force to dent the metal and send Robin stumbling back.
Before he could recover, a hand shot out, arm extending into a spear that struck his thigh as he tried to dodge. Agony shot up his leg as he fell to one knee. While it had only been a glancing blow, it had carried enough force to rip through his greaves and slice into the flesh. He was lucky it had missed the artery.
Blindly, he threw up his hands, launching two rapid bolts of lighting. The swordsman darted left and right, avoiding the feeble spells. With a deafening roar, the dragon-man hybrid closed the gap, and with a sudden surge of power, slammed both hands into Robin's chest. There was a roar like a rushing torrent, a blast of water erupting from the spot. The next instant, Robin was aware of nothing but pain, the impact launching him with enough force to fly a dozen feet through the air and land in a crumpled heap.
For what seemed to be an eternity, he lay there, his blurry vision flickering in and out of darkness. He could barely feel his body, and what little sensation he did have was clouded by pain. He chest burned with each gasping breath he took. He was sure he'd broken several ribs. He felt for his side with one hand, his leg with the other, both hands coming away stained with blood. He tried to lift his head, searching for something. For some way out.
He spied his sword, only a few feet away. He reached for it, straining with all his might. The tips of his fingers brushed against the hilt, just barely outside his reach. Please. He had to reach it. He had to-
A footstep crunched nearby, a growling hiss echoing through the stillness. Robin turned his head, eyes falling on the red-eyed swordsman. His foe loomed overhead, the red-eyed man's sword retrieved and in hand. His shoulders rose and fell in ragged breaths. Gone were his draconic features, his shape wholly a man once more. Yet still he stood, ready to deal the killing blow.
Slowly he raised his sword over his head, his breathing quickening as he bared his teeth. "Die!" he hissed. Then he brought the blade down.
Robin closed his eyes, not wanting to see the end come.
"NO!"
Suddenly there was a rush of movement, as if the wind itself had taken shape to fill the space between them. A resounding clang echoed forth, its note one of ringing steel.
Robin's eyes shot open, a gasp falling from his lips as his eyes took in the sight. Before him stood a woman clad in blue. A sword was in her hands, raised overhead where it had intercepted the killing blow, holding the weapon at bay. Gold was its hilt and tear drop guard, and silvery white was its blade.
Arrayed for war the woman appeared. Dents and other scars of battle covered her armor, with dried blood visible where countless minor wounds had been dealt. Her cape and hair billowed in the wind, her expression held in a hard glare as she faced down Robin's would be killer.
It was the woman from his memories.
The woman he'd been trying to find.
"You will not lay a finger on him!" She said, her voice clear and strong, carrying with it a force and authority born of unbreakable will and sense of purpose.
Then something seemed to click into place, the sound of her voice awakening something deep within Robin. Like an incoming tide, memories rushed forth, overwhelming and engulfing him in their embrace.
He remembered waking up in a field, his first memories of his friends and all the trials and dangers they'd face together. He remembered the times, good and bad, all the laughs and tears. He remembered meeting her, of every moment spent together. He remembered his sacrifice, and his return. He remembered his family, his son and daughter from another timeline, his newborn children back home. He remembered the battles that had brought him here, the unknown foe that had come to threaten his world.
He remembered everything.
He remembered her name.
"Lucina!" Robin cried out, calling out for the woman that had come to his rescue.
He called out to the woman he loved.
Author's Note: Well guys, there was the big old cliche crossover fight. I hope I did a good job making it fair and portraying both character's powers well. And a wild Lucina has appeared and Robin's memories are coming back. And he only had to be beaten near half to death by a sword wielding maniac to do it, lol.
Now, just a little background on writing this fight: it was actually a bit of a struggle to keep it fair for one simple reason: I like Robin far more than I like Corrin. That's not to say I dislike or hate Corrin: far from it. There are times I like him quite a bit. However, it's more of a love-hate sort of thing. At times in Fates I find him quite likable and endearing. Other times, however, I want to grab him by the shirt, punch him in the face, and scream at him to stop acting like a whiny b****. Granted, that's more of a problem with the story, where EVERY character spontaneously becomes stupid at various points. It also doesn't help that the narrative bends over backwards to prop up Corrin and make him special, which gets annoying too. I always have found Robin far more relatable due to how he is just a more grounded character who isn't the center of attention.
So I faced the problem of favoring Robin in the fight, which forced me to really sit down and figure out what would make the most sense from a logic standpoint. And as much as I like Robin and wanted him to win: Corrin is simply far more powerful. I mean, he is a half dragon demi-god with the series McGuffin in sword form. Kind of OP OP. Now, Robin is no push over either, and he is definitely smarter than Corrin. Sure, Corrin is good at tactics (but not strategy, as per his supports with Leo), but Robin is on another level. However, this only works when he knows how to counter his foe: which Corrin's Dragon Vein ability as well as his partial dragon transformations (Dragon Fang) were things Robin has never faced before. He had no idea how to counter them, and with how much Corrin outclasses him in the realms of speed and strength, Robin simply lacked the time to figure it out. So in the end Robin put up a hell of a fight, but Corrin takes this one.
Anyhow, next, onto responses to guest reviews. As always, I reply to non-guest reviews via PMs, so if you left any previous reviews, check your PM boxes for my replies should you wish to read them.
Darkness21 - Yep, first little hints Corrin has of something really being up with the Awakening trio. It will be real interesting to see what will happen with the arrival of two people they know who may or may not completely blow their cover. As for the battle: well, it just happened, so nothing really to comment on here. Hopefully it met explanations.
Ew - Ew, gross, this isn't even a real review. PS: Try to leave an action review next time.
Anyhow, that's all for now, hopefully you guys enjoyed it. As always, please let me know what you thought of this chapter by leaving a review. Your feedback always means a lot.
Until the next chapter, I'd like to wish everyone a wonderful day. Peace!
Character Spotlight: Lucina
Class: Great Lord
Secondary Classes: Cavalier, Archer, Pegasus Knight, Knight, Cleric
Skills: Aether, Luna, Galeforce, Rightful King, Awakening
Personal Skill: Foreseer - When supporting a unit, Skill chance to negate an incoming attack against the lead unit. Lucina takes damage equal to ½ that the protected unit would have taken. Will not activate when absorbed damage would be fatal to Lucina.
Equipment: Parallel Falchion (carried at all times), Short Spear (only into battle).
Ability Details: Originally Lucina employed a fighting style identical to her father's. However after her loss against him in the Ferox Arena, she realized that her own relative lack of physical strength and smaller size compared to many other fighters made her less suited for a style which focused on overpowering an opponent. Since then, she learned to adapt the techniques she'd learned to better play to her strengths: relying more on speed and precise strikes to defeat an opponent. With this style, Lucina has become adept at defeating foes more physically imposing than herself as well as at being able to fell enemies in rapid succession with well placed thrusts and slashes to vital areas.